Small panel, inset in the top left of panel two. Close on an old-fashioned analogue clock with roman numerals. The second hand is just ticking up to 9 o’clock.
CAP (Phil): 9 to 5, 9 to 5, sometimes it seems my whole life is 9 to 5…
A small and shabby open plan office in a faceless business. The furniture is worn, the papers on the noticeboard are yellowing, the carpet is threadbare. On the desks, bulky old computers sit next to overflowing in-boxes. One desk even has an old typewriter. The clock we saw in panel one is central, on the wall above long rectangular windows which look out on a dark, grey morning. Rain pelts the glass, we can't see anything beyond. The clock reads just after 9.
The office workers are taking off their wet coats, shuffling to their desks. In the foreground is our narrator, Phil (new character – 30s, dishevelled, a worn-down office drone like the rest of them). He watches his colleagues arrive for another day at the treadmill.
CAP (Phil): This friend of mine, Barney, he quit this place and tried to get out of town. Said he wanted to go somewhere you can tell the difference between day and night, the job and your life.
CAP (Phil): He didn’t know no better.
The edge of town. Dark and gloomy. A weary figure staggers down a road towards old burnt-out farm buildings.
CAP (Phil): Most people here, we learnt a long time ago – the road out just leads straight back in.
Back in the office. The clock on the wall read 12-30. Everybody is working, head down, halfway through another dreary day. It’s no lighter outside, the rain is still pelting the windows. In the foreground, Phil glances across at the clock.
CAP (Phil): You accept that and you get on with it.
CAP (Phil): Get up, go to work, do the 9 to 5, go home and drink yourself to sleep.
The edge of town. The weary figure stumbles to his knees.
CAP (Phil): Barney kept walking till his feet were hamburger.
CAP (Phil): Eventually he just lay down in the road...
CAP (Phil): He was no further away than when he started out.
Back in the office. Not as wide a panel as the others, all we really need to see is Phil in the foreground, a couple of heads working at desks beyond him, and the clock on the wall in the background. Phil stands, putting on his coat, preparing to leave. The clock on the wall reads 4-59 and the second hand is ticking up to five. Nobody else moves from their desk.
CAP (Phil): I thought what happened to Barney was the worst Green Wake had to offer…
Small panel. Close on the clock, the second hand is one second away from five o’clock.
Small panel. Close on the clock. But now it reads reads 9-00 and the second hand is just ticking past the twelve.
Same as panel 6 except the clock reads just after 9, as in the previous small panel. Resigned to his fate, Phil takes off his coat.
CAP (Phil): Then one day, we didn’t even get to go home anymore…